


Settle This Now

by dramionelurver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Humor, dramione isn't really the focus, featuring just about everyone at hogwarts, it's more just general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramionelurver/pseuds/dramionelurver
Summary: Severus Snape was obnoxiously gambling with Fred Weasley in the middle of battle. It was actually quite annoying, especially when the entire Great Hall joined in on the betting.





	Settle This Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the MadLib Challenge. Yes, you’ll notice that this takes place in a convenient universe where a ba-jillion things are different. It’s for fun. Get over it. A huge thanks to RandomPonyWriter and Revina Aclarr for betaing.

            “Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley!” Professor Snape sniped, sending Fred Weasley a demeaning glare. Or maybe it was George. Oh wait, nope, that was Fred.

 

            “You’re the mad one!” the ginger retaliated with an amused grin on his face, looking as if he was about to burst into laughter. “You ever seen this boy play?”

 

            “Yes, I have, and I’m positive that he will lose this battle!” the greasy-haired Potions expert announced, straightening his back with pride.

 

            “Shhh!” Ron glared at the two of them sternly, but they weren’t paying any attention to him, ironically.

 

            “Twenty galleons says he wins,” Fred challenged, eyes twinkling.

 

            “Done,” Snape agreed, a determined smirk settling on his lips.

 

            “I quite agree with you,” the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood declared from behind Fred’s left shoulder. He rotated his head slightly to find the peculiar Ravenclaw staring at him intently.

 

            Creepy, that one.

 

            “Don’t be ridiculous, Luna,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she strolled up to stand next to her older brother’s seat. She placed a supportive hand on the chess player’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off immediately. “Malfoy is no match for Ron.”

 

            “Wanna bet on it, lil sis?” Fred asked as he quickly lifted his eyebrows.

 

            “Put me down for five galleons on Ron,” she replied, folding her arms.

 

            “What about you?” Fred questioned, directing his attention momentarily to the pretty but probably psycho girl that was still much too close to his body.

 

            “Ten galleons on Draco,” she responded after a few seconds. For a bit, he’d been sure the girl had gone barmy, staring off at some space above his head. Finally, she wandered away aimlessly, staring up at the enchanted ceiling as she went.

 

            “We need to record this,” Fred decided.

 

            “Agreed,” Snape murmured, immediately conjuring a scroll of parchment with a wave of his wand.

 

            “Oi! George!” Fred shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Gotta quill handy?”

 

            “What for?” his twin replied, equally as loud, from halfway across the room where he sat with Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Lee Jordan.

 

            “Recording bets,” Fred answered, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

 

            “Oh, what for?” George asked eagerly, immediately popping out of his seat to zoom to his twin’s side, one quite shabby looking quill in hand.

 

            “The chess match that just began.” Fred gestured to the two boys seated at the Ravenclaw Table (neutral territory and all) with a tilt of his head. Almost immediately, his twin’s expression curled into a grin.

 

            “ _I_ will record the bets,” Snape declared, plucking George’s quill out of his hand after sending it a disgusted look-over. Laying the parchment on the tabletop, he wrote the names of the two boys on either side, creating two columns.

 

            “You recording for or against?” George inquired, familiar with both methods since he and his twin had made so many similar lists in the past.

 

            “For,” Snape replied in a slow drawl, leaning back to reveal one bet had already been scrawled under Ron’s name: _20 galleons – Severus Snape._ “I believe you matched my bet, Weasley?”

 

            “’Sright,” Fred asserted proudly. “Put me down for twenty under my man Malfoy.”

 

            “You serious?” George asked incredulously, curious eyes glancing towards the blond and redhead that didn’t seem to notice anything outside of the game.

 

            “Sirius Black,” Fred joked, elbowing his little sister in the stomach, sparking a glare and retaliatory elbow attack.

 

            “Ron has this,” Ginny retorted, turning to Snape. “I said five for me.”

 

            Their professor said nothing, but leaned over again to record her bet.

 

            “I trust Fred,” George declared, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of his identical copy. “Put me down for fifteen on Malfoy.”

 

            “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ginny whispered in a sing-song voice to her big brother before slipping away to talk to Harry, who was approaching the slowly growing crowd.

 

            “Why not?” George called after her. He glanced at his twin, who shrugged, and then ran after her. Instead of questioning her right away though, he greeted Harry.

 

            “What’s going on?” Harry asked, looking past the two Weasleys to spot his best friend seated across from the blond Slytherin he loved to hate. “Oh, what is it this time?”

 

            “Same as last time,” Ginny said.

 

            “But this time Snape and Fred have started a betting pool on the winner,” George told him, grin wide across his face. “You in?”

 

            “Put me down for twenty-five galleons on Ron,” Harry replied confidently. “Ron’ll whoop his butt.”

 

            “Oi! Fred!” George called. “Harry’s going with twenty-five on Ron!”

 

            “Gotcha!” Fred called in return, immediately telling to Snape to jot down the bet. Around the two of them, a small gathering of students seemed to be arguing with each other. Every once in a while, someone would shout loud enough for the half the room to hear how much money they were placing on who.

 

            “Easiest money I’ll ever make,” Harry remarked, pulling his gaze away from the crowd to share a glance with Ginny.

 

            “Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” Blaise Zabini snapped, his eyes lazily scanning the scene before him. Harry scoffed at his arrogance.

 

            “How is it ridiculous for me to bet on the sure winner?” the bespectacled boy replied with his own confident smirk. “Ron is the best chess player in the entire school.”

 

            “Perhaps he’s the best chess player compared to the rest of Gryffindor House, but that means near to nothing,” Blaise retorted, raising his eyebrows as if daring Harry to challenge his claim.

 

            Meanwhile, Lee shouted across the room to George, demanding why he left. Instead of explaining, the redhead beckoned him over. With an exaggerated sigh, he obeyed, Angelina and Katie right on his heels.

 

            “Fred and Snape started a begging pool on the chess game,” he told them eagerly, eyes twinkling with delight. “You wanna place a wager?”

 

            “Between Malfoy and Ron?” Angelina asked. A small smile sneaked onto her face as she rolled her eyes. “Lemme guess, they’re playing for something again?”

           

            “Same stakes as last time,” George reported with a wide grin.

 

            “I’m getting the feeling they’ll be doing this often,” Katie muttered to Lee. The two shared a look before both letting out a light laugh.

 

            “Well, then Ron is definitely going to win,” Angelina declared, folding her arms and nodding.

 

            “Normally I would agree with you,” George said, “but Fred says Malfoy, so I put my money on him.”

 

            “What?!” Angelina exclaimed, unfolding her arms to place her hands on her hips. “You can’t be serious. You’re betting against your own brother?”

 

            “I trust Fred!” George answered, straightening his back with pride and confidence.

 

            “I’m staying out of this one,” Katie announced, backing away a bit. Then, glancing over at the chess game, she decided that not participating in the betting didn’t mean she couldn’t watch the game, so she walked over and sat down a few seats away from Ron. Lee glanced back and forth between Angelina and George before chuckling and following Katie.

 

            Just as Lee was sitting down next to Katie, Harry, Blaise, and Ginny approached the other side of the table.

 

            “See? Malfoy just lost his knight!” Harry cried as said knight was smashed to pieces by Ron’s bishop. The dozen or so students who had clustered around the two boys groaned or cheered the move. Most of them had money on the game by then.

 

            “Do you mind?” one Draco Malfoy shouted, momentarily turning around in his seat to glare at the chatters .

 

            “We’re trying to play a game here,” one Ron Weasley added unnecessarily, sending a quick glare at the owners of the group of hands that were a tad too close to the chess board on the table for his tastes.

 

            “A very _important_ game,” Draco stressed, immediately returning his attention to said game.

 

            “ _See?_ ” Blaise whispered harshly to Harry, leaning a tad bit closer to the abhorred Boy Who Would Not Go Away. “Draco’s not going to lose his entire weekend, so he’s not going to lose the game.”

 

            “You’ve obviously never seen what Ron will do to get out of studying with Hermione,” Harry retorted.

 

            “What is going on here?” the stern voice of Professor McGonagall demanded. Harry and Blaise were so busy arguing with each other, though, that they didn’t notice their Transfiguration teacher. Lee and Katie were completely engrossed in the game, as were the players themselves. Ginny, however, turned around to watch as McGonagall and Snape had a staring contest.

 

            “Unless you’d like to place a wager, I don’t believe it’s any of your business,” Snape answered dryly. Other than the handful of students arguing with each other or focusing on the chess game, one full second after the Potions professor’s response floated into the air, the crowd of teenagers widened their eyes and let their mouths fall open as if on cue.

 

            “Ohhh! I can’t believe he said that to _McGonagall!_ ” Ernie MacMillan whispered to Hannah Abbott, voicing the thought running through most of their brains. Even McGonagall seemed shocked, though the slight frown and hardening of her gaze probably meant she recovered quickly.

 

            “Ten galleons on Mr. Weasley,” she pronounced curtly. Then she ordered the crowd to part with a wave of her hand and strode up to the Staff Table.

 

            “Mr. Weasley, hmm?” Dumbledore questioned as she sat down in her chair, peering at her over the rims of his half-moon glasses. “Interesting choice.”

 

            “I have full confidence in Mr. Weasley’s chess playing abilities,” McGonagall replied with a single nod of her head. Then she sent the Headmaster a curious look. “Don’t you?”

 

            “Ah,” Dumbledore exclaimed softly, leaning back in his chair. “But do you know what the two boys are playing for?”

 

            “I assumed it was the same as before,” McGonagall said with distaste. “But that only further increases the probability of young Mr. Weasley’s victory. What that boy wouldn’t do to get out of studying… it’s a wonder he comes to class at all.”

 

            The Headmaster, however, didn’t seem to hear her words. Instead, he studied the blond and the redhead seated across from each other. His eyes shifted from one to the other to the noisy crowd that had gathered around them. Fred was still reporting bets to Snape for him to record on top of those that were dictated to him personally. The list of names must have been at least two feet long now, with a practically equivalent number of supporters for both competing boys.

 

            Suddenly the old man stood, catching the attention of McGonagall and a few other professors close by, but nearly nobody else.

 

            “Severus,” he called out in his normal voice. But from the response of the collection of people in the Great Hall, one would have thought he shouted. “Fifty galleons of mine say this ends in a draw.”

 

            For a moment, a shocked silence held the room still.

 

            “A draw, Albus?” Snape repeated, eyebrows crunching together in the middle of his forehead.

 

            “A draw,” Dumbledore echoed. Then he sat down.

 

            And all of a sudden, the Great Hall burst into noise. More students than before were discussing the chess game even louder than before. Bets were called from the very outskirts of the crowd of people around Fred and Snape. Seats on end of the Ravenclaw table were filling up fast, everyone eager to watch the outcome of the game for themselves.

 

            “But Albus!” McGonagall exclaimed incredulously “A chess game rarely ends in a draw! The probability of that occurring, even between two evenly matched opponents…”

 

            “I quite agree!” Flitwick squeaked from the other side of Dumbledore. “I’d sooner think Mr. Malfoy to win the game than for it to end in a draw.”

 

            “Nonsense!” Hagrid declared. “Ron here’s the best chess player I’ve ever seen.”

 

            And while the teachers were therefore effectively pulled into the betting pool, the students below were discussing the chances of a draw.

 

            “Do you really think it’ll be a tie?” Daphne Greengrass asked Pansy Parkinson as they squeezed out of the mass of students around Snape and Fred after placing their bets to find seats at the Ravenclaw table to watch the game.

 

            “Hey, Blaise,” Pansy greeted as she sat next to him, finally pulling his attention away from his animated discussion of chess with Harry. Then, dragging her hair over her shoulder, she turned back to Daphne. “No, I already told you. Weasley will win this.”

 

            “Not you, too!” Blaise moaned, tragically disappointed to hear another Slytherin betting against their friend.

 

            “There’s no way Draco will let himself lose to Ron two times in a row,” Daphne argued as Blaise nodded furiously.

 

            “You both are missing a vital piece of information,” Pansy murmured under her breath, an amused smile dancing on her face. Although they hadn’t spoken all afternoon, the Slytherin caught the eye of Ginny from across the table and the two shared a knowing look. Harry, upon spotting said look, turned a suspicious glare towards the redhead next to him that he had largely ignored while arguing with Baise.

 

            “What was that about?” he demanded, drawing the attention of all three Slytherins to his left.

 

            “What was what about?” Ginny asked innocently, a blank expression covering her face.

 

            “You know what I’m on about,” Harry retorted.

 

            Right about then, the single most important event that would determine the outcome of the game occurred. Everyone in the room was so distracted with their arguments and bets, though, that nobody even noticed. Not even Dumbledore. Not even the two boys actually playing the game.

 

            Not until…

 

            Seemingly out of nowhere, a hand reached under the chessboard and flung it off the table. It flew three meters in the air before crashing into the side of the Hufflepuff table. Suddenly every eye was focused on the owner of that hand, whose face was flushed with anger.

 

            “ _WHAT THE HELL?!”_

 

            Across the room, dozens of teenagers jumped out of their skins and shrank back. Eyebrows were raised, lips were bitten, and looks were exchanged, but no one spoke. Fred and George met each other’s eyes and grinned foolishly. Other than the two of them, though, only Dumbledore seemed to find the situation amusing.

 

            Then Draco let out an exasperated sigh as Ron rolled his eyes.

 

            “ _Don’t roll your eyes at me!”_

“Geez, sorry, Hermione,” Ron muttered.

 

            _“I can’t believe the two of you!”_ the furious Gryffindor girl shouted at the top of her voice. Even with her short stature, she somehow transformed into something to fear. Some students started looking nervous and fidgety.

 

            “I am not a gambling tool!” she yelled, glaring daggers of death at both of the boys. “If you both hate my study sessions so much, be a man and tell me!”

 

            “Oh-ho! Hear that Malfoy?” Fred jeered, a broad grin pasted across his face. “She doesn’t think you’re a man!”

 

            A bout of laughter burst from the crowd, but was swiftly silence by a stern look from Hermione.

 

            “Shut up, Fred,” she demanded, turning her piercing glare onto the older Weasley for a moment. Although his grin remained, he put his hands up in silent obedience.

 

            “Funny,” Draco said with a slow drawl, a smirk starting to slip its way onto his mouth. “That’s not what she was saying last night.”

 

            This time the laughter was rampant, intermingled with gasps and snorts.

 

            “Draco!” Hermione scolded, turning her death glare back to him. “That is _not_ funny.”

 

            “Actually, I thought—”

 

            “I am this close to hexing you already!” she proclaimed, effectively interrupting his response. “Don’t push it!”

 

            A chuckled escaped Ron’s mouth, and she immediately spun towards him.

 

            “And don’t think you’re getting off easy either, Ronald!” she warned. “I can’t believe the two of you would place such bets over your chess game!”

 

            “We always bet over our chess games,” Ron pointed out.

 

            “But not about me!”

 

            Silence responded to Hermione’s words, but this type of silence was a special kind of silence: the kind filled with uneasy shifting and nervous eye movements and everyone ignoring her gaze.

 

            “You-you’ve bet on spending time with me before?” she asked, horrified and crushed.

 

            “Not spending time with you,” Draco corrected, “ _studying_ with you.”

 

            “Same thing!” Hermione cried, still frowning sadly, hurt swimming within her eyes.

 

            “No, it’s not,” Ron and Harry said at the same time.

 

            “I can’t believe this,” Hermione murmured dejectedly, her shoulders sinking.

 

            “Me neither,” said Dean Thomas, a frown forming across his face. “Now I’m out five galleons.”

 

            Almost the entire crowd groaned as the realized that they, too, had lost their bets.

 

            “Wait,” Angelina cried, “neither of them won, so which side wins the money?”

 

            Professor Snape, sorely disappointed with the knowledge that he had lost twenty galleons and most likely planning on giving Ron detention sometime that week to make up for it, immediately shot his head towards the Headmaster, whose eyes were twinkling madly.

 

            “The one who bet on… a draw,” he answered grimly, still looking at Dumbledore. At his words, every other face in the Great Hall followed his gaze, staring at the Headmaster in pure disbelief.

 

            “My lucky day,” Dumbledore commented with a smile. “I expect you’ll see that my winnings are delivered to me, Severus, Mr. Weasley?”

 

            The old man nodded at the two that started it all.

 

            Fred and Snape simply stared at each other.

 

            Everyone else sent them piercing glares.

 

            “ _WHAT THE HELL?!_ ”

 

            “Whoa, déjà vu,” George mumbled to Angelina out of the side of his mouth, leaning down close to speak as quietly as possible.

 

            “ _You all bet on the outcome of the game?_ ” Hermione screeched, staring from the Weasley twins to her best friends to her professors. “ _That’s so… so…_ ”

 

            “It was just a bit of fun,” Draco said as he stood, laying a hand on her shoulder. The goodie-two-shoes immediately shrugged it off.

 

            “ _No_ , no, it is not!” she replied shrilly. “Gambling is… is immoral! And wrong! And addictive! And wasteful!”

 

            “Relax, Hermione,” Draco urged, trying to put his hand on her shoulder again. This time, she let it stay there, though she glared at him to make sure he knew she still wasn’t happy about it. “Let’s go do rewrite our Potions essays. I have a feeling Snape’s not going to be in a good mood while grading.”

 

            “Oh, I really could work on the phrasing of my conclusion, couldn’t I? And I’m still not sure if I want to switch paragraphs six and seven. Do you really think that I should discuss the similarity of brewing the antidote before finishing the adverse reactions when taken with Lymerian’s Invigoration Draught?” Hermione asked, deep concern etching lines across her forehead, getting completely and utterly wrapped up in her worries about her essay. Matching sighs of relief escaped from the mouths of both Ron and Harry, who found themselves once again begrudgingly grateful for the Slytherin’s influence over their best friend.

 

            “Tell you what,” Draco replied, draping his arm around her shoulders now. “I’ll go get my essay from my bag and meet you at our usual table in the library.”

 

            “All right,” she agreed. Then she spun around to face Harry and Ron and asked, “Have the two of you completed _your_ essays yet?”

 

            Small, guilty smiles and an avoidance of her eyes were answer enough.

 

            “I expect you to meet us as well,” she announced. “And this weekend, all three of you are going to study with me. You’ll thank me when the O.W.L.s come around.”

 

            With that, the bookworm strolled out of the Great Hall with a satisfied smile on her face.

 

            After she left, Ron swore loudly.

 

            “I was so close to winning, too,” he exclaimed with a tinge of regret.

 

            “What game were you playing, Weasley?” Draco retorted. “Because I was beating you into the ground.”

 

            “I can’t believe I lost twenty-five galleons to _Dumbledore_ ,” Harry groaned, hanging his head for a few seconds before standing up to hand over the amount to Snape and Fred. Behind him, Blaise, Pansy, Daphne, and Ginny followed, all wearing disappointed frowns as they searched their pockets for money.

 

            “I thought it was such a safe bet, too,” Ginny grumbled, wondering if she even had five galleons on her.

 

            “Safe bet?” Blaise repeated incredulously. “Why so sure your brother would win?”

 

            “Because Draco _wanted_ to lose,” Pansy answered for the redhead.

 

            “ _What?_ ” Harry, Blaise, and Daphne all snapped, eyes widening and eyebrows crunching together.

 

            “He _liked_ studying with Hermione last weekend,” Ginny explained, a smirk bending her expression.

 

            “How would you know?” Daphne demanded, suspicion leaking into her voice.

 

            “Pansy heard him _humming,_ ” Ginny answered. The Slytherin girl nodded to affirm her words. As one body, the other three students turned around to stare in wonder at the blond boy still arguing with Ron at the Ravenclaw table.

 

            “Probably because they spent the five hours snogging rather than studying,” Blaise grumbled. Harry rolled his eyes in agreement.

 

            “Even so,” Ginny replied.

 

            “And here I thought you were being a loyal and supportive sister,” Harry commented with a grin, elbowing the redhead in the stomach. She snorted.

 

            “As if.”

 

            A few minutes later, the group reluctantly handed over their dues and then dissolved, heading this way and that. Harry returned to where Draco and Ron were still debating who had been closer to winning the game before it had been quite literally destroyed.

 

            “I blame the both of you,” the green-eyed wizard declared, glaring at the two boys. “This was supposed to be my free weekend.”

 

            “Mine too,” they both responded at the same time. Harry merely shook his head as they glared at each other.

 

            “Let’s get this stupid essay over with,” he suggested, turning on his heel to exit the Great Hall. A few steps behind him, the Gryffindor and Slytherin followed.

 

            “Oi, Weasley,” Draco called as they reached the doorway.

 

            “What now?” Ron snapped half-heartedly, still focusing on the game they would never finish. He was positive that he could have won. Then the blond Slytherin would have been stuck doing five hours of Transfiguration with Hermione all by himself.

 

            “Bet that Hermione’s going to yell at me during rounds tonight,” Draco grumbled.

 

            “Malfoy, why would I take that bet? Everybody knows that’ll happen,” Ron replied, shooting him a smirk.

 

            “Ah, shut up,” Draco retorted, sticking his tongue out at the Gryffindor. “We still on for Saturday morning?”

 

            “Yup. Harry and Ginny and I are ready to slaughter some Slytherin hide,” Ron assured him, the smirk growing bigger.

 

            “In yours dreams, Weasley,” Draco shot, his own smirk spreading across his face. “My team’s going to put your flying skills to shame.”

 

            “Not going to happen, Malfoy,” Ron declared, straightening his spine with pride. “Though you know what is? You being stuck with your study-crazed girlfriend for all of Christmas vacation.”

 

            “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

 

            “We’ll see who wins the match, Malfoy. We’ll just see.”


End file.
